I've got a new book that's come out on the Fiction Studio Books imprint, named The God's Wife. It's being sold as an e-book on all platforms from Kindle on Amazon.com, to iPad via the iTunes bookstore, and all other e-bookstores in between. There also is a paperback available at Amazon.com
What's it about? It's a historical fiction tale mixed with a lot of magic and mystical touches all featuring a young girl who is named the God's Wife of Amun in ancient Egypt. You don't have to know much about ancient Egypt, because the book explains everything you need to know. Neferet, the young God's Wife, hasn't been prepared for her role properly. Political vipers assail her and sexual approaches surround her.
Meanwhile, in the 21st century a young dancer named Rebecca Kirk has been slated to dance a version of "Aida," and becomes so immersed in her role that she falls into trances, smelling the breeze off the Nile, feeling the desert sun on her cheeks, hearing the call of the priests at Karnak temple. It isn't long before she senses that she's communicating with an Egyptian woman from the distant past.
Eventually the two are communicating, and the reason for it eludes all reason. Neferet thinks the gods are putting Rebecca to her aid. Rebecca thinks they are on parallel universes. But whatever is going on, each woman is helping the other. The worlds are not stable however, and it's clear that both can't exist for long. Who will live and who will die? And what precious gift is the God's Wife learning from this otherworldly experience?
The book has already got one rave review from Technorati.com, which called it: “A heavenly read.... The God’s Wife is a feast of romance and excitement, keeping the reader in its thrall with suspense.”
More reviews will come in, but I can't expect a better start than that.
September 1, 2011
July 11, 2011
Now that tennis is back in the news (with Wimbledon just ended), it's a perfect time to pick up a book about tennis, preferably one that gets you inside the sport in ways you never would in other ways. Open by Andre Agassi is that book. Part auto-biography, part memoir (and who can really tell the difference), this is remembrance of a life in tennis that will grab you from the opening pages and not let you go until Agassi is finished 386 pages later. It tells the personal story of the man who won eight grand slams (those are the biggest tennis tournaments in the world), became a multimillionaire in prize money and product endorsement, was an international celebrity, and set up a charity in Las Vegas to fund underprivileged kids who had no education, decent living conditions, or prospects for the future.
But the book doesn't just discuss Agassi's achievements and personal life. It also takes a look down the dark corridors of the tennis academies and clubs where tennis is taught and sheds a not-so-glamorous light on the sport. For Agassi, who claims right from the beginning that he hates the sport, says tennis is battering whole generations of unwilling boys and girls by adults who crave the prize money, fame, and the ego-showcase of being the parent of a world-class tennis player.
From the beginning of the book, Agassi regales readers with the torment he was subjected to by his father, an Iranian immigrant named Mike (name Anglicized) Agassi. He married an American woman in Chicago and moved to Las Vegas. Finding a job at the casinos, he looked for a home in the nearby desert. It had to be a home that had a backyard that fit certain required dimensions—those of a tennis court. It turns out that the elder Agassi was determined that one (if not all) of his children was going to be a tennis champion. As the girls broke down one by one, and brother Philly couldn't make the grade, it was up to Andre, the youngest, to become the No. 1 tennis player in the world.
When his father couldn't torture him any longer—tennis before school and after—he was sent off to Nick Bollettieri's Tennis Academy in Florida. Bollettieri's school, which is legendary now for the number of champions it has fostered, was new then not the dream school people imagine. Crummy food, drill-sergeant tactics, no sleep, no bonding with other students; it sounded like a hellhole. And Agassi was horrified when Bollettieri picked him out as a favored student who could stay for free. Essentially with no schooling past the 9th grade, Agassi was Nick's ward and shepherded across the U.S. winning junior championships and becoming more lonely as time went on.
The story eventually cheers as Agassi becomes an adult and plays as a professional. He finds his self worth and begins to gather an entourage who help him with training, finances, public relations, and just dealing with his emotions. He was still a wild child and shows up at tournaments in denim shorts and mohawk haircuts. News reporters jeer him for a advertising slogan ("Image is Everything") that follows him even though it was none of his doing.
The young years are rough, and a nasty rivalry develops between Agassi and Bernard Becker (this becomes almost humorous as the book continues), but there's a turning point that happens when Agassi faces down his public self and turns inward. There are things that go horribly wrong, such as his marriage to Brooke Shields, and things that are quite brilliant, such as his re-dedication to training with his no-nonsense trainer. The book never makes clear why Agassi could have played it so wrong by falling for Shields, who had no interest in his life as a tennis player at all. He even writes that she liked it when he lost a tournament because then he was around the house, paying attention to her!
But in the areas where he digs in and grows up, he sheds the need to please people like his father and the long-disappeared Bollettieri. He begins to work hard on his charity for underprivileged children, because in a way he's working on the child he was, underprivileged and unschooled in Las Vegas: a child who needed love and received very little. Because he worked so hard on the inner Andre, his tennis improved, and he attracted fans like never before.
Then he chased after and won the heart of Steffi (properly called Stefanie) Graf, former tennis pro and all-time Grand Slam record winner. With Graf, Agassi finds love, peace, and the joy of fatherhood with young Jaden and Jaz.
This writer was at the U.S. Open when Andre ended his career. I watched as he played the biggest match of his career (which he describes in detail in the first chapter of Open) against Marcos Baghdatis. The next match he lost and then announced the end of his long and historic career. It was one of those most moving and heart-rending moments in tennis. This book captures all of it.
November 27, 2010
November 8, 2010
By Lynn Voedisch
For Jack McEnroe, the price of liberty has nothing to do with politics or patriotism. It's based on keeping his job.
Jack works at a Red Rock, Montana, prison under construction and meant for terrorists. It's named Liberty and is funded, through some nefarious means, by Halcyon Corporation, which sounds eerily like the Halliburton Corp. of reality. The protagonist is in trouble for punching out the boss' piggish son, Shane Fetters, and has been demoted to clean-up duty, which angers him well enough. In the recent past, his wife, Kyla, left him because he spent all his time building a dream house for his family instead of spending time with her and kids. Now Kyla, who works as a secretary for the boss (and is secretly sleeping with him), has discovered that executive Dave Fetters has been double-billing Halcyon. She worries about whether she should blow the whistle.
Little does Kyla know but she leaves her tracks on the computer, and Dave realizes she's been into his super-secret double-billing file. He also knows she's been querying the word "whistle-blower" on various search engines. He realizes he's in trouble deep, but doesn't want to harm Kyla. Trouble is, Shane knows too, and he's like a roaring bull moose that can't be stopped.
Jack's in the middle and has to stop Sean from destroying his family and everything else he holds dear in the name of Liberty.
It's a fine plot that novelist Keir Graff has woven in the wilderness thriller The Price of Liberty. What looks to be a book about survival in the wilds of Montana is more like a book about surviving political wiles in Washington, D.C. Senators and corporation big-wigs get handouts, everyone glad-hands, and plenty of money is exchanged. Fetters takes the big shots on fake "hunts" into the wilderness where nothing is killed, but they all retire for a venison meal at a swank restaurant and fat Cuban cigars. That's the way business is done in this version of America, the one no one of Jack's class will ever see.
Up until the double-billing is discovered, everything goes swimmingly for Dave Fetters. However, he doesn't know that a couple security folks from the feds are on to him. They have full names, but like most secret operatives, they just go by last names: Starr and Mosley. Mosley is the most interesting: a vet of the Iraq war, he seems able to slip in and out of every emergency, and track any illegal activity. He's been watching Shane. Starr has put it more bluntly to Dave; he's told Dave that his son has been identified as a security problem. What's a father to do?
It all goes haywire in a wicked and wild way when Shane cuts loose with some sort of half-baked plot to restore his honor and keep the ill-gotten loot. Rotten to the core, he's not afraid to blow away innocent gawkers along the way. Mosley quietly cleans up the mess in the name of damage control. Jack strikes out on his own doing counter-insurgency, if you will, getting friends and co-wokers to battle back at Shane. Dave's caught in the middle. I won't leak any spoilers, but his filial love could have shone in a better light.
All in all, Graff has produced a terrifically ironic look at America today, where the terrorist prisons stand in for the real-life legislators who are terrified of housing terrorists. (Although our maximum security prisons house the worst serial killers, rapists, and child killers.) The double-funding for the Halcyon Corporation mirrors the messes we've gotten into with Halliburton and now the Xe Corps. No explanation needed. Missing taxpayer money? Someone in Washington, D.C. is knee-deep in it. And even though Red Rock, Montana, is about a thousand miles from nowhere, it's a perfect microcosm of Everywhere, USA.
My only beef is that Graff's tight and almost journalistic prose (that's a good thing, by that way), tends to make Red Rock sound like a cold, barren place where no one would want to live. I doubt that was his intention, for Kyla and the kids are relieved when Jack lets them know he doesn't want to move away. Making the landscape sound less forbidding and more ruggedly beautiful might have softened the edges of the book.
But that's a tiny complaint about a first-class thriller that sweeps the reader along on a bouncy, jarring ride, almost as dangerous as the trip in Jack McEnroe's SUV. It will grip you, it will feel real, and it will make you think about American values.
November 1, 2010
By Lynn Voedisch